


But If the World Was Ending

by rebeccaofsbfarm



Series: First Kiss Week [6]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Buddie First Kiss Week, Comfort, FKW, M/M, War of the Worlds, incoming missile, prompt: because they think they're going to die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24566656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccaofsbfarm/pseuds/rebeccaofsbfarm
Summary: The U.S. Pacific Command has detected a missile threat to Los Angeles. A missile may impact on land or sea within minutes. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. If you are indoors, stay indoors. If you are outdoors, seek immediate shelter in a building. Remain indoors well away from windows. If you are driving, pull safely to the side of the road and seek shelter in a building or lay on the floor. We will announce when the threat has ended. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Take immediate action measures.He lets the message loop twice, and then three times, focusing on the words “if you are indoors, stay indoors,” and looking right past them as he gets up from his couch and shoves the two closest shoes on his feet, not checking to see if they match. When he gets outside, it’s oddly quiet and still, as if everything has not suddenly changed. As if it wasn’t all about to end.He gets in his car, and he’s speeding to Eddie’s, because who will stop him? Imagine getting stopped for a speeding ticket at the end of the world.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: First Kiss Week [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765291
Comments: 11
Kudos: 308





	But If the World Was Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Boy I bet I'm not the only person with this title for this prompt because TikTok is a curse, but it is the song that inspired this fic. I promise, I am angsty only to the point of a happy ending, so here at least you're safe.

It was twenty minutes into the second episode before Buck realized that he had stopped processing the show he was watching. In the time he had spaced out, the sun had gone down, and the only glow in his apartment was from the television. He picked up his phone to text Eddie, to tell him how long he’d spaced out, but then he realized that Eddie was still mad at him and probably wouldn’t answer.

It was the reason he was alone in his apartment watching a show he had no interest in. Because somewhere along the way, Eddie and Christopher had become his life, and without them he was listless and lonely. They had already survived a lawsuit, and Eddie had forgiven him, would probably forgive him again, but Buck was doing his best to give him space.

He’d been insubordinate on a call again, with Eddie at his back, reinforcing to Cap that the floor was unstable, but then Buck found the little girl they’d been looking for, saw her sobbing in the middle of her playroom, rubbing at her eyes and choking with every sob as the room filled with smoke. He knew Eddie was a father, would have done the same thing, but Buck was still a few steps ahead of him, and it was Buck that dove forward into the room, pulling her into his chest as the floor gave way, heavily dropping both of them into the kitchen, but not before he saw Eddie’s eyes through his mask, wide-eyed and distraught as Buck disappeared in front of him.

They’d landed safely enough, with Buck’s body curled around the little girl, his heavy equipment breaking his fall, and even in the smoke he could make out the door wall, and he managed to get it open, handing the little girl off to Hen as Chimney grabbed at his turnouts, pulling them off to check for injuries. He finally heard the shouting over the radio, realized it was Eddie and that he sounded desperate.

“Buck? Buck! Did he get out?” his voice crackles over the radio.

Buck chokes on the fresh air as he gets his mask off, and it’s Chim that answers over the radio, “All accounted for Eddie. Get out of there.”

It’s a few minutes, but Eddie comes hauling around the house as Chimney checks him over in the backyard. He’s got a murderous glare, and he tosses his helmet into the grass as he reaches them. Chim shifts to get between them, but he seems hesitant about staying there.

“God-damn it, Buck,” Eddie hisses, and he stands a few yards away, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “How many times am I going to watch you try to kill yourself? Because I’m reaching my limit.”

“She’s fine,” Buck answers with the attitude of a man that just survived a fall through the ceiling of a kitchen on fire. “The little girl, she’s fine.”

“Well shit I hope so, because that dumb stunt could have killed both of you,” Eddie says, and Chim finally speaks up, tells them to wait until he’s finished checking Buck over for injuries, but Eddie doesn’t wait, just grabs his helmet and storms off back to the truck.

It’s the last Buck sees of him that night, as Chim decides to send him to the hospital to get checked over. He argues, but his ribs are sore, and he agrees to at least _see_ a doctor.

Maddie picks him up a few hours later, and he is loaded up with painkillers. She puts him to bed, or at least he assumes she does because that’s where he wakes up, and only then does he realize that Eddie hasn’t answered any of his texts.

He takes a few days leave to recover, but then he’s back to work, even if he has to sit through another meeting in Bobby’s office. What doesn’t change is Eddie’s charged silence toward him. It doesn’t get in the way of their work, and they continue to work as a team on rescues, but the moment they’re seated in the truck, Eddie refuses to look at him.

Chim knows, because he was there for the blow out, which means that Hen knows, which means that Bobby and Athena know, and they all case the situation in concentric circles of concern. Buck knows he should apologize, but he still hasn’t worked past his self-righteous anger. He had _saved_ that girl. He had done his job.

So instead of a Friday night on Eddie’s couch watching a movie with him and Christopher, he is trying to watch one of the few shows he hadn’t already promised to watch with Eddie, and he is not successful, because the sound of his own thoughts echoes in his empty apartment.

He leans against the arm of his couch and starts to fall asleep to the white noise of the TV, and he thinks he’s been asleep for a while when his phone vibrates. For a moment he assumes, then _hopes_ , that it’s Eddie, but then the vibrating continues, hard and insistent.

He’s bleary eyed with sleep, but he lights up the screen to read the message, and it’s an emergency alert. He expects an Amber Alert, maybe an earthquake and readies himself to be called into work, but instead he is met with a message he never expected, never _wanted_ to see. It strikes terror into his gut, and his skin goes cold.

_BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND TO LOS ANGELES. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL._

He gropes for his TV remote, which must have fallen to the floor in his sleep, and turns on the TV. Every channel has switched over to an emergency broadcast, and a ribbon scrolls along the bottom of the screen.

_The U.S. Pacific Command has detected a missile threat to Los Angeles. A missile may impact on land or sea within minutes. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. If you are indoors, stay indoors. If you are outdoors, seek immediate shelter in a building. Remain indoors well away from windows. If you are driving, pull safely to the side of the road and seek shelter in a building or lay on the floor. We will announce when the threat has ended. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Take immediate action measures._

He lets the message loop twice, and then three times, focusing on the words “if you are indoors, stay indoors,” and looking right past them as he gets up from his couch and shoves the two closest shoes on his feet, not checking to see if they match. When he gets outside, it’s oddly quiet and still, as if everything has not suddenly changed. As if it wasn’t all about to end.

He gets in his car, and he’s speeding to Eddie’s, because who will stop him? Imagine getting stopped for a speeding ticket at the end of the world.

* * *

Eddie has picked up and put down his phone about a hundred times, only just barely resisting the urge to text Buck and ask him to come over. Christopher is moping, and what frustrates him most is that he isn’t any better. A Friday night without Buck here feels empty, and he’s still angry with Buck for nearly dying again, but he’s also annoyed with his own bull-headed stubbornness in not letting Buck apologize, when he knows it’s on the tip of his tongue.

Christopher is curled up at his side, playing a game on his new Switch, and Eddie is trying to watch the TV. His phone vibrates next to him, and he feels a rush of relief that Buck has reached out, before the phone continues to buzz, louder than usual.

He looks down at his screen and reads the alert. He feels his son against him like a heat-signature in the desert, glowing in colors against the darkness. He feels nauseous, knows he’s gone pale, and he can’t let Christopher notice, can’t worry him.

“Buddy, can you take your game into your room for me? I want to watch a show for grown-ups,” he says, hoping his voice is steady.

Chris looks at him sideways, because usually he isn’t allowed to take his Switch into his room, but takes the opportunity to bargain, “Can I take a milkshake with me?”

Eddie knows he means one of his prepackaged protein shakes that Chris knows he shouldn’t have, but what’s the harm now?

“Sure buddy. The Cookies and Cream ones are the best. Want me to get you one?”

Chris nods and starts crutching his way to his bedroom, handing the game to his dad to carry it for him. Eddie folds him into his blankets and hands him his treasures, then he presses his lips to his son’s forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin and trying to hold himself together.

He goes out to the living room and switches the TV to one of the many new stations in full broadcast, hopes that there will be some information, some radar map that would show there was nothing inbound, but everyone seems as confused as he does, and even veteran journalists are tearing up on camera.

When he’d been in Afghanistan, he could have expected this, could have said his prayers and hoped for the best. But not in Los Angeles. Not with his son in the next room.

He stands there, doesn’t know for how long, waiting for something to change, but nobody knows anything. There is nothing conclusive, just a threat of violence that cannot be disproven, but worry balls up in his throat and chokes him.

What does he do? What does he tell Christopher? Who can he share this burden with?

It’s then that he hears a key scraping in the lock, and before the door opens he knows who it is, like he knew he could help Eddie carry this burden, if he couldn’t lift it off his shoulders entirely.

“Buck,” he says, his throat opening with relief because nothing in the world has changed, but at least now he has Buck. “You heard?”

“I did,” he said, and Eddie has watched the alert on a loop, knows that Buck should have taken cover, and coming here was reckless and dumb but he’s so grateful that he did. “And I’m sorry.”

For a moment Eddie forgets; he forgets that he was angry, that they weren’t speaking. He’s just so relieved to see him.

“God Buck, that doesn’t mean anything. I was afraid to lose you, and now it seems I might lose you anyway,” he says, and he chuckles maniacally because there’s nothing more to do. “On the bright side, I always wondered if I could live without you, and now I guess I won’t have to find out.”

Buck is hesitant, but he’s here, against orders, because there is no earthly authority that can get in the way of Evan Buckley, so it must mean something.

“Eddie, you’re scared, maybe you don’t know what you’re saying,” Buck excuses, and his voice is quiet, withdrawn, _hopeful_ even in this terrifying moment. “But I’m here, and I just want you to know that I feel the same. If that’s what you mean.”

“I don’t know what I mean,” Eddie admits, and he feels like he’s running late for something, like he doesn’t have enough _time_. “And now we may never get a chance figure it out.”

“Eddie…” Buck murmurs, deep in his throat. “I’m here _now_. We have _now_. That’s all we were ever promised.”

And then Buck is closing the distance between them, and Eddie isn’t sure this is what he meant or expected, but his arms open and his hands fall to Buck’s sides, holding him as he takes Eddie’s face between his palms and kisses him. Buck’s fingers cup his jaw, his fingertips grazing his cheekbones, and it is so soft, so pure, so _precious_ , that this one moment is _still_ and he forgets about the outside circumstances.

“Christopher?” Buck asks when he pulls away, pressing his forehead against Eddie’s, his hands falling to gather Eddie’s hands in his as he begins to fall apart, supported by Buck against him.

“I didn’t tell him,” Eddie admits, sniffling, and Buck pulls him forward into his chest. “He’s in his room drinking a protein shake and playing video games. He doesn’t know. Do I tell him?”

“It would only scare him,” Buck decides, and he’s so calm in a crisis that Eddie just falls into him. “Shh, get it out. I’ve got you.”

“What do we do Buck?” he asks, and it’s such a reversal. Usually he is the one who _knows_ , but he can’t face the knowledge that he can’t protect his son. That nothing he can do can prevent what is coming.

Buck kisses his forehead, lets him pull himself together, “We’re going to go bed, and when we wake up it will be better.”

As he says it, their phones vibrate in sync, and it’s not anything new, just another alert telling them to take cover. Eddie knows the devastation of a missile, has seen it with his own eyes, and he knows that taking cover won’t protect them if they are in its path. Buck takes their phones and turns them off, dropping them both into his pocket.

Eddie knows it’s a lie, that they may never wake up, but it’s the best idea they have. Buck walks down the hallway to get Christopher, and Eddie watches his body language change, sees the mask he puts on to protect Christopher from their knowledge, from their terror, and he almost breaks again, but instead goes to his bedroom and pulls down the covers.

“Bucky’s here for a sleepover!” Chris calls out as Buck carries him into the bedroom. “Dad what a great surprise! Is he gonna sleep with us?”

“Sure is, buddy,” Eddie tells him, and he knows his voice comes out higher than usual by Buck’s worried glance, but Chris doesn’t seem to notice. Chris trusts that he’s safe because he’s with them, and Chris is _wrong_. “Buck was telling me he felt like a cuddle sandwich, and I told him I knew the perfect kid to be the bologna.”

“Bologna?!” Chris squeals, as he folds into Eddie’s chest. “Can I be peanut butter?”

“Okay fine,” Buck acquiesces, climbing into the bed after him. Eddie’s arms are wrapped around his son, and Buck lets his arm fall over them, reaching out to rub his thumb over Eddie’s cheek to soothe him. It almost makes him fall apart again. “I like peanut butter better anyway. Do you know the peanut butter jelly song?”

“It’s peanut butter jelly time!” Chris sings, and Eddie swears that when this is all over he will never miss YouTube, but Chris’s joy pulls a genuine smile to his lips, before it shatters with the knowledge of what is to come. He pulls Christopher closer, uncomfortably so, and Chris starts to notice, squirming.

Buck shifts his arm beneath Eddie’s, forces him to loosen his grip, and twists the three of them together like a pretzel. Christopher yawns, curling into them, and his slowed breathing lulls them all to sleep, clustered together at the end of the world.

* * *

“Daddy, you’re crushing me,” Christopher squeaks, and Eddie can tell that he’s not quite awake, but he loosens his grip. He almost falls back to sleep, but then he squints into the light from his window and feels a heavy arm over both him and Christopher. Instantly, he remembers everything from the night before.

“Buck,” he hisses, and he is shaking his bicep to wake him, “Buck, it’s morning. Wake up.”

Buck groans, and he’s always slow to wake, but then he must realize what Eddie has and bolts up. Chris grumbles before rolling into Eddie’s chest to continue sleeping. Eddie shushes him, holding him to his chest, as Buck grapples for his phone on the nightstand. He mutters as it starts up, and then it starts buzzing again. Nonstop. Message after message.

_BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND TO LOS ANGELES. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL._

_FALSE ALARM. THERE IS NO THREAT TO LOS ANGELES. STAND DOWN._

_PRESS RELEASE FROM THE GOVERNOR OF CALIFORNIA<http://bit.ly/82b3i17>_

Eddie reads the messages over his shoulder, sees Bobby and Maddie’s names before Buck clicks on the link and scrolls quickly through the webpage.

“Cyber-terrorism,” Buck answers quickly. “Somebody hacked the emergency broadcast system, then they couldn’t get in to call it off. There was never a missile.”

“No missile?” Eddie confirms, but then he’s laughing, and Chris groans again because he wants to sleep, and he doesn’t know what all the fuss is. “Just some two-bit hackers?”

“Right,” Buck says, and a relieved smile spreads across his face. “Eddie, I think we get that chance you asked for.”

Eddie leans toward him, wants so much to kiss him, knows now that he can, again and again because it isn’t the end, only the beginning.

“Dad!” Chris protests, and Eddie chuckles, tucking him into the bed and motioning to Buck to follow him.

They stumble into the hallway, and he is pulling Buck to him with barely enough time to close the door behind them. He is desperate for him, nipping at his jaw, and tugging at his clothes, rejoicing in the morning light and the knowledge that at least for now, they have this moment, and they have each other.


End file.
